


More Life

by embroiderama



Category: Angels in America - Kushner, White Collar
Genre: Aging, Angst, HIV/AIDS, M/M, Multi, Relationship Advice, Relationship Problems, Strangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 10:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unsure of the future of his relationship with Peter and Elizabeth, Neal ends up meeting a couple of strangers who give him a gift of wisdom and perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Life

**Author's Note:**

> When I watch movies or TV shows set in NYC, I often feel the urge to find a way to cross them over with WC. This weekend, I rewatched the HBO miniseries of _[Angels in America](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angels_in_America:_A_Gay_Fantasia_on_National_Themes)_ and felt that urge again. I have a deep, long-standing adoration for _Angels in America_ , stretching back to my freshman year of college when I bought the paperback of the play and read it many times before I finally got to see the play. (Yay for having a mom who would pay for theatre tickets when she came to visit me.) I cannot possibly even approach writing the kind of language that's in the play, but I thought I'd borrow a couple of the characters for a little while and have a look at them thirty years down the line. (And yes, there are people who were in Prior's position in the mid-80s who are still around.) This story should make sense if you only know White Collar, but I hope it will have more depth for people who know the play/mini-series. Either way, I hope you'll take a chance on this.

Sometimes, when Neal needed to think, he had to get, get away from wherever he was to find some literal and metaphorical space in which to straighten out his thoughts. He normally preferred to walk, and he left the Burke home with the intention of walking straight to Manhattan if he needed that much space, but his walk was cut short by the cold, overcast day suddenly adding sleet to the already uncomfortable mix. Neal ducked into a coffee shop, grabbed a hot tea and a newspaper, and sat down at one of the few available tables. He wasn’t interested in reading, but a man with a newspaper in front of him was far less likely to be disturbed by strangers, and Neal wasn’t looking for conversation.

Neal stared blindly at his newspaper while he contemplated his situation—should he stay and work for his relationship with Peter and Elizabeth or should he leave and make things easier for all of them—but he couldn’t help being distracted by the crowd around him. The men sitting at the next table were especially interesting, and Neal began observing them in earnest. They both looked like they were around sixty years old, one of them tall and narrow-framed with a paunch under his sweater and some roundness to his otherwise angular face and his dark hair turning gray, the other was pale and very thin in a way that should have looked fragile but instead gave the impression of the exposed metalwork of a bridge, all steel beams and woven wire that could weather time. Neal suspected that the cane leaning against the table was his.

Neal’s first impression was that they were lovers, the small touches implying intimacy, but despite the fact that they had clearly known each other for a very long time there was a certain distance between them that spoke of a wound between that had scarred over but never quite healed.

_The darker-haired man sipped at his coffee and looked at his companion over the brim of the cup. ”So how is the new, um, cocktail working?”_

_“Oh, Louis. I know you don’t like to talk about these things, so we don’t have to—“_

_“You scared me that last time. I hadn’t been that scared since—” The man, Louis, shook his head and put one hand over his mouth._

_“Hush. Besides, with your blood pressure I might just outlive you.”_

_Louis snorted. “That would be something. Would you dance on my grave?”_

_“Burlesque, darling.”_

Neal covertly looked closer and saw a wedding band on the thinner man’s ring finger but nothing on his friend’s hand. Ex-lovers, then, mellowed into old friends. Neal felt his throat tighten at the thought—he didn’t think he could have that with Peter. He and El could probably stay friends if the relationship fell apart, and the idea of not being Peter’s friend hurt but the thought of spending time with him while having this kind of distance between them was unbearable.

The two men had been talking about politics, mostly Louis ranting about the mayor, when Neal was startled to hear their conversation turn to a different subject.

 _”You know, you’re_ much _less cranky when you’re getting laid.”_

_“Oh, please. When have I ever been less cranky?”_

_“I can remember a time or two. Maybe a couple of months in 1982.”_

_“Thank you.”_

_“But I mean it, you should date. Find some sweet young thing to distract you from the woes of the twenty-first century.” The man leaned closer to his friend and whispered, “Maybe this one right here. Just your type.”_

_“Prior.” Louis sighed. “He’s certainly appealing but—“_

_“I knew it! You’re a dirty old man!”_

_“Not that old, thank you very much. And in any case, I think he has enough woes of his own.”_

_“Hmmm. Oui, tres pensif._

Neal tried to focus on the newspaper in front of him, but in his peripheral vision he could see the thinner man, Prior, leaning his head on the heel of his hand and peering at Neal through his glasses. Neal thought he was managing to seem unaffected right up until the man suddenly scooted his chair over and leaned an elbow on Neal’s table.

“Uh, hello?” Neal blinked, shocked at the invasion of his space.

“Helloooo.” He raised one eyebrow and looked Neal up and down. “I’m Prior, and you are?” He held out one bony hand, and Neal took it after a moment’s pause.

“Neal.”

“Now tell Mama Prior your problems, _Neal_.”

“Excuse me?” Neal’s first instinct was to distract the man and slip away, but something in his eyes was captivating now that Neal could see them beyond the glasses.

Louis, still at the other table, snorted. “Don’t worry, he’s insane but not dangerous.”

“Some days I wish I were insane but no. Not yet anyway. So—“ Prior clapped his hands twice, briskly. “Tell me what such a handsome young man is pondering. Did your lover leave you?”

“No.” That would never be the problem with Peter and Elizabeth, but the possibility that they might ask him to leave was terrifying.

“Did you leave your lover?”

“No.”

“Well, I’m not a fortune teller here, give me your story! You _must_ have a lover. Are you sick?”

“No. No, I’m well. And I do have a lover, two actually.”

“TWO? You’re hogging two beautiful men when there aren’t enough to go around?”

“I wasn’t aware there was a shortage, but who said anything about two beautiful men?”

“Oh, please don’t tell me you’re a heterosexual.”

Neal sighed and gave in to telling this stranger his story. “I’m in love with a man and a woman. They’re married, and we’ve been in a relationship for…a while.”

“Oh, my.” Prior looked over at his friend. “Look at us, Louis, living in the future. Then again, maybe Hannah would have approved?”

“Hah!”

“No, you’re probably right.” Prior turned back to Neal. “So what’s the problem then?”

“I don’t know if it’s right. For a few years I didn’t have the option of leaving the city, legal issues, but now I could go anywhere. I could leave them to be happy without me.”

“Mmmm, have they asked you to leave?”

“No. No, but things aren’t—they aren’t perfect. We have arguments, and—“ Neal shook his head. “I couldn’t take them asking me to leave. I’d rather just go.”

Prior made a tsking sound, and Neal heard the scrape of a chair as Louis moved over to the table as well. “You’ll regret it if you go.”

Prior looked sideways at Louis but didn’t respond, and finally Neal asked, “How do you know?”

“I left somebody once. It was a long time ago, a different time, but I left because I was afraid that otherwise I’d be the one left behind. I’ve been regretting that for just about thirty years now. Don’t do that to yourself. Don’t do it to them.”

Prior reached over to lightly smack Louis’s arm, but the look on his face was sad. “Louis, stop projecting your issues onto this boy. Now tell me, is the sex good?”

Neal thought about acting scandalized, but he just nodded. “Amazing.”

“And are they intellectually _stimulating_?” Prior smirked.

“He’s the smartest man I’ve ever known, the only person who could ultimately, uh, get me. And she’s so bright and she loves the things that I enjoy, art and theatre and food that doesn’t come out of a can.”

“Mmhmm.” Prior nodded sagely. “So what’s the problem?”

Neal thought about claiming that they didn’t really want him around, but he knew that was untrue. He looked from Prior's sharp eyes to Louis’s somber face, and if these two men didn’t know the complications of Neal’s life it was clear that they’d lived through things he could barely imagine. Finally he said, just above a whisper, “I don’t know if I love them enough.”

“Well, that’s nonsense. Nobody loves anybody enough. There’s no such thing as enough, but there’s less and there’s more. And there’s nothing. Have you cared about anybody more than these lovers of yours?”

“Never. But I also never thought this would be my life.”

“Pfft. Look, I thought I was going to die when I was 32 years old. I was sure of it. And now look at me, I’m as old as the hills. I might actually live to a respectable age.”

“You? Respectable? What age are we talking about?” Louis’s tone was gentler than his words, and Prior rolled his eyes.

“What I’m saying is you should take your chance at happiness. Hold onto it even if it tries to fly away, even if it’s painful and terrifying, even if it seems like it's ripping your whole world apart. Hold onto it with both hands, even when your arms are exhausted and your fingernails torn.”

“And if I regret it?”

“You won’t.” Prior looked away for a moment then turned back to Neal and leaned in with his chin on his hand again. “I bet I can imagine these lovers. He’s probably tall and brawny, just about butch enough to out-butch the Marlboro Man. And she’s, hmm, not so tall but with curves that would make a queen _weep_ with jealousy. And hair to die for, too, lucky girl.”

Neal was taken aback for a moment until he thought to look up, and there they were, just inside the door. Peter and Elizabeth looked cold and damp and worried, and he stood up as they walked over. Neal felt like he was holding his breath until Peter came close enough to take his hand. “Come home?”

Neal wanted it more than anything, but his desire warred with his fear to keep him frozen in place.

“Go on now,” Prior said.

Neal sighed and his body softened, melted against Peter’s shoulder. He looked down at Louis and Prior and nodded. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Prior sat back and smiled mysteriously. “Good luck. More life!” The words were a strange sort of benediction, but they suited the man speaking them.

“To you as well,” Neal said, meaning it. He felt like he’d slipped down some kind of rabbit hole, but as he stepped out onto the sidewalk the real world of the city and his life and the people who he loved settled down around him. The air was cold, but the love around him felt warm, and he could imagine long years with Peter and Elizabeth. A lifetime.

Neal wasn’t sure that he believed there was no such thing as enough, but he was willing to do his best to find out.


End file.
